


Stupid prompt exchanges

by TheFierceBeast



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gen, Gordlock - Freeform, Gotham is for lovers, M/M, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fic, Seriously A LOT of Fluff, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFierceBeast/pseuds/TheFierceBeast
Summary: However many short fics get written before me and Goldleaf1066 get bored with sending each other stupid fic prompts!All will be Gotham, I imagine most will be Gordlock, but all rules are off in no-holds-barred prompt war :p(I heartily encourage you to go and read Goldleaf1066's Hannibal fic, as it is sheer, cut-crystal brilliance.)





	1. Archery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldleaf1066](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldleaf1066/gifts).



> Prompt 1: Harv's first archery lesson

“You don’t think this might be a little..?” Jim raises his eyebrows, amused, but still can’t help taking a reflexive half-step back as Harvey swings around to face him.

At least _this_ time, he’s still pointing the crossbow _away_ from Jim.

“A little _what_ , pray tell?”

Jim wrinkles his nose, half smile, half grimace. “Overkill?”

“In Gotham? Seriously?” He turns back to the target range and Jim watches the broad line of his back as he aims.

“We do have guns,” Jim points out.

Harvey swears under his breath as he looses another unsuccessful bolt. “Yeah, and I been shot at by enough arrows this past year to know we gotta be prepared for every eventuality.”

“That was one time. In extraordinary circumstances.”

“When are there ordinary circumstances in this city?” Harvey mutters, darkly. He slots a new bolt into the notch and draws. There’s a dull _chunk_ as the bolt fires and Harvey spins around, jubilant. “Look! Right there, did you see that?”

It’s tricky to hold in laughter, but Harvey looks so pleased with himself that Jim makes the effort. He can’t resist saying it though: “I saw you miss the target entirely again, yes.”

“Yeah, but I hit the backboard! That shows I’m improving!” Jim nods, dutifully, hiding his smile behind a clenched fist. Notes the tilt of Harvey’s grin. “Hey, even Robin Hood started somewhere.”

“Absolutely.” He shuffles back again, hands raised as Harvey swings the bow around towards him.

“See. I’m intimidating already. You’re intimidated, admit it.”

“If I admit it, will you quit pointing that thing at me?” Jim manages, through his laughter.

Harvey shakes his head. “So disrespectful.” He says, smiling wide.


	2. Eurovision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Jim and Harv watch the Eurovision Song Contest (100-200 words, at least 1 x key-change).
> 
> (I totally failed at the wordcount again, but I got a key change in there!)

 “Remind me why I’m giving up my Saturday for this?” Jim says, taking the bowl of chips Harvey hands to him and bouncing down onto the couch. The TV blares, all gaudy lights and dramatic key changes, enough to give Jim a headache already. He takes a swig of his beer.

Harvey says, “It’s part of your essential cultural education, Junior. Eurovision’s a fine old institution.” Jim casts a sly glance as Harvey drapes one arm along the back of the couch and reaches across Jim’s lap to grab a handful of chips with the other. “Since I was a kid, once a year, the whole family’d get together to watch.” He slides Jim a smirk. “I ask you, what could be better than gathering with your nearest and dearest to raise a glass and cheer on the old sod?”

Jim raises his eyebrows. “Nearest and dearest?”

“Yeah, well.” Harvey grin and ruffles his hair. “I’m having a temporary dry-spell, OK?”

As Jim finger-combs his hair back into place, he notes without any displeasure how Harvey’s arm has slipped down from the back of the couch to rest around his shoulders.

 

Two hours later and Jim’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry. “How long does this run for, again?”

“We’ve not even got to the voting yet!”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think Ireland’s going to win.”

“Hey!” The vehemence in Harvey’s tone sounds actually genuine. “I’ll have you know we’re the reigning champions. Seven times, we’ve won, seven. My money’s on making it eight.”

“I hope you don’t mean literal money.”

Harvey raises an accusing finger. “You take that back!”

“Harv.” Jim says, sincerely. “The Irish entry is a singing turkey.”

“And?”

“It’s terrible.”

“It’s irreverent genius!”

“ _Really_ terrible.”

“Your _face_ is terrible.”

He manages to keep a straight face for about five seconds, before he bursts out laughing. Harvey’s smile is megawatt. He pulls Jim to him, plants a sloppy affectionate kiss on his temple, and Jim’s heart thuds. “I’m sorry for making fun of the Irish disco turkey.” He says. “You’re certain to win. Top three, at the very least.”

“Damn right.” Harvey says, and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-n--JnAwirk 
> 
> Dustin the turkey sadly didn’t actually make it to the 2008 Eurovision finals, but clearly should have done. Watch the video, you’re welcome :p


	3. Breakages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Left to his own devices in the apartment Harv accidentally breaks one of Jim’s prized porcelain dog figurines.

“I was gonna just say nothing and put it back, I thought you might not notice as it was tucked away, but then you notice every goddamn thing and I figured that you’ve got so little, well, _anything_ , around this place that this must mean a lot to you and I just,” Harvey bares his teeth, hand hovering like he’s about to run it through his hair, but he’s so distracted that he’s forgotten. “I’m really sorry, man. You were out for a minute, and I was curious, then I was clumsy and…” He tails off, apprehension written all over his face. “And, yeah. Oops?”

“You broke this?” Jim turns it over in his hands, sliding a fingernail across the shiny glaze to feel for cracks. It’s a porcelain poodle, cheap and chintzy, wearing a beret, and a red bow around its neck.

Harvey nods, lips pressed together and eyes wide. “Uh huh.”

“Barbara gave this to me,” Jim says, still inspecting it in fascination.

When Harvey says, “Ah, nuts,” in a tone of absolute mortification, Jim looks up sharply.

“Because she knows I don’t like clutter and she was making fun of me. I hate this thing.” He raises his eyebrows. “You mended it _really_ well, I can’t even find the join.”

Harvey’s expression sort of sags; goes from relieved to indignant in 0.5 seconds. “Well, hell, I wish I hadn’t spent more’n an hour mending the piece of crap, then! I was worried I’d broke some treasured heirloom from your Grammy or something!” Jim glances at him and grins. Harvey sighs. “If you hate it that much, you should just toss it.”

Jim shakes his head. _No_. “Somehow I like it more, now that I’ve seen it again. I think I’ll keep it.” And he places it on one bare, white living room shelf.


	4. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: “Hey, is that mistletoe?”

“Hey, is that mistletoe?”

Jim followed the direction of Harvey’s pointing finger, to spot it, balanced on the light fitting above his desk. He breathed out a short laugh. “The cleaning crew here is about as dedicated to the job as half of uniform.” He said, and tried to ignore the warm feeling that Harvey’s answering chuckle gave him.

The second time, Jim frowned. “It’s _June_.” He eyed the sprig of plastic berries, sat on top of an evidence room filing cabinet, with suspicion. After the third and fourth time, there was no blaming it on a lax cleaning crew neglecting to take down Christmas tchotkes. From the way that Harvey was there at the scene, every time Jim spotted those little plastic leaves, he was starting to doubt it was just some dumb in-joke by bored cops with the level of humour of seventh graders, either. He was starting to form… a notion. Something he didn’t dare to dwell on.

It was the sixth time, because Jim was keeping count. He entered the locker room to see Harvey leaning against his locker, and when he looked up to see the familiar sight peeking over the edge of the block of grey cabinets, he wasn’t even a little surprised. A strange feeling lurched in his belly: a little like nerves; a little more like excitement.

“Hey Harv.”

“Hey buddy. What’s good?”

He didn’t move when Jim fitted his key into his locker door, just shifted slightly to the side, arms folded and head leaning against the metal wall, gazing at him.

Jim didn’t answer. Hardly dared to look at him. When he did look, Harvey glanced up, indicating with the barest nod, and Jim couldn’t help but follow his eyes, so Harvey knew he’d seen it. The mistletoe. Harvey raised his eyebrows, face a picture of innocence, and the back of Jim’s neck bloomed with heat: the slow, heady kind that curled right through him. “This stuff seems to be multiplying.” He reached up. Had to go on tiptoe and lean across Harvey to get it. His fingers closed around stiff, plastic leaves. The stretch brought them to the same height. Face to face.

Their eyes met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, have an annoying fade-to-grey :p
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone reading this and most of all to GL1066 for the excellent prompt battle! x


	5. Talent show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 5: GCPD charity talent show. Entrance is compulsory.

“I really ain’t that big a deal,” Harvey says. “Everyone’s good at _something_. So, what are you good at?”

 

“My job.” Jim replies, acidly.

 

On any other day, the chuckle that provokes would have him unable to stifle a smile, but today even Harvey’s approval isn’t winning him over.

 

“Ah, come on. It’s traditional, like the Christmas Choir. It’s for charity: I thought you’d be all over that!”

 

Jim raises his eyes to the ceiling in silent entreaty. “It’s not the charity part that’s bothering me. It’s the _compulsory_ part. We’re police officers, not performing monkeys.”

 

“Ah, I dunno – ‘performing monkey’ could apply to quite a few guys in this precinct – wait! I got it!” He snaps his fingers and points at Jim. “You should do a sexy dance number, you know, like a Chippendales thing…”

 

Jim sighs with a world-weariness born only from long-suffering. “Yeah, I’m leaving now. See you later, Harv.” He gives Harvey a little wave as he collects his coat from the rack.

 

As he exits, he hears Harvey call after him. “Don’t discount it, man, it’s genius – soon as you’ve got the first button open, you’ll be booed offstage and you won’t have to do a thing!”

 

*

 

If Jim had been told that Harvey’s genius idea would have proved the inspiration for his actual performance, he might not have believed it at first. Then, he was grinning to himself as he signed up with ‘Acrobatics’, and smirking the whole way through the approximately sixty seconds it took him to take to the hired hall stage, walk a few steps balanced on his hands, and finish with a neat flip and a bow.

 

“Thanks, guys.” He says, as he’s handed the mic. The assorted catcalls and general noises of derision from his colleagues in the audience are just the icing on the cake, really. “It might be mandatory, but there was no stipulation on how long you have to remain onstage.” Tipping a formal salute, he makes his escape.

He’s feeling pretty pleased with himself as he jogs back to his seat. Even better, Harvey’s on next, and he cannot wait to gather some more fuel for teasing. He leans back, folding his arms, the corners of his mouth tilting up as Harvey saunters onstage with an acoustic guitar and settles on the chair there. Then, proceeds to start picking out a slow tune, with more than a small amount of expertise.

Jim realises he’s shifted forward in his seat a moment after he does it. He’s always had a vague notion that Harvey could carry a tune, but that was informed by too many nights watching him hold court at karaoke, leading raucous, drunken choruses of classic rock hits. Now, his voice is quiet and low, over the melody of the guitar. ‘Danny Boy’, of course it is. And Jim would be the first to admit that he’s never been a huge music buff, but right now there are shivers chasing up his spine and across his scalp, and a weird ache inside him that feels almost dangerous.

 

There are whoops and whistles instead of heckling along with the applause when Harvey leaves the stage. He slides into the seat next to Jim, and punches him lightly in the shoulder and grins. “Nice tactics. Still think you should have at least shown a bit of skin, but you’re learning.” Jim gazes at him for what feels like a second too long, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Now alls you gotta do is make sure you book leave for next year’s show.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jim says. “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I didn't really do this one justice, but basically I just wanted Jim going heart-eyes over Harvey singing (because FIRM HEADCANON he sings like a fallen angel), so here ya go!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much to anyone reading this self-indulgence, you all rule! Commenters are my best-beloved :p x


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